LOGINAspen
Killian looked like he was in a hurry. I noticed that he kept tapping his fingers impatiently against his thigh. He was quick to deposit all the money for mom’s surgery including what I owed and then asked that we leave immediately. I promised Dr. Luke that I would call him before hurriedly leaving with Killian. And the bastard just dropped me off at the door of his huge house and then he drove off at high speed. Standing in front of his door, I sighed heavily. His house had the aesthetic of a mafia lord. The compound was huge and I caught sight of some flashy cars that were parked around. Escaping seemed impossible. Killian had guards stationed everywhere. They were all dressed in black suits, wore black sunglasses, and held guns while looking right ahead. Sighing again, I pushed the door open and walked into the house. It was neat and spotless and there was no soul around. I could not believe that Killian was the only person who lived in a house that was as big as that. Clearly, his guards stayed in the Annex houses. I decided to take a walk around the place to know my way around. I had to accept the place and my new life though that was the last thing that I wanted to do. But it seemed like I had no choice. I was just about to take a step when the door opened and a man rushed in. He was not dressed in black like the guards, but was dressed casually. He did not look deadly and stoic like Killian, he had a calm aura and a warm smile appeared on his lips once he saw me. Who was he? “Hey, Aspen.” He waved and I slowly waved back at him. “There is clearly a resemblance between you two.” He mumbled to himself with a look of surprise on his face and his words brought me back to the words I overheard from Killian as well. It seemed like there was someone who looked like me. “I'm sorry if I barged into your home—” “This is not my home!” I snapped. His words suddenly got me angry. “Oh,” He mouthed and then smiled. “I can see that you are still blending in. Well, I'm Damien. I did not mean to scare you by barging in. Kill asked me to come.” “Kill?” My brows furrowed. “Killian, your husband.” He rephrased and I got more pissed. Hearing that Killian was my husband made my blood boil. “He's busy right now and will not be available for a while. I'm here to help with all that you need.” Damien sounded nice and I slowly began to get comfortable in his presence. “Well, Kill…” I began with a note of sarcasm. “Threw out all of my clothes. All of them. I have nothing to wear.” I was in desperate need of a warm bath. I needed fresh clothes. “You don't have to worry about that. Your clothes have been arranged in your closet. I will show you your room.” Damien politely offered and then began to walk ahead of me. “Is Killian your boss?” My intuition was that he wasn't, seeing that Damien called him kill. That was casual. “No. Kill is a very close friend.” He replied. Damien led me up the stairs and then stopped in front of a room. “This is your room. Kill already arranged for everything that you need. You do not need to worry about anything. Kill’s room is the one beside yours.” Hearing that from him almost made me feel sick because I was going to be close to that bastard. At least we were not going to be sharing a bed. “Does anyone else live here?” Damien shook his head. He was polite, cute, and tall. Killian was taller, but Damien looked more tolerable. “Killian’s workers only come in to clean and that's it. Kill loves his personal space a lot. I think you should know that since you will be living with him.” “I know about the situation of your marriage.” I mouthed an Oh. In the contract, it was stated that I was to keep my marriage to Killian a secret. “Then do you know why he had to marry me? By force?” “Trust me when I say the last thing Kill wants is marriage. He only married you because of a very personal family issue." Damien deadpanned and I could tell that I was not to ask about that personal family issue. “I'm sure he's not going to bother you. He's not going to have the time. As you already know, he's a very busy man.” I knew what he did. He was a notorious and feared mafia lord. Of course, he was busy destroying lives just as he did to me. Here in New York, the mafias were all well known and feared and Killian Davenport was one of those. But I knew nothing about his family. I had never heard of his family or whether he even had one. “That will be great. His face makes me sick.” I drew out and Damien laughed. “I like you.” He said while still laughing. “By the way, feel free and be comfortable here. Do your thing and I'm sure Kill will stay away as well. And if I'm to give you a piece of advice, please stay away from Kill when he is angry. Or better still, try not to get him pissed. If you unfortunately get him angry, walk away.” Damien warned and it sounded like a warning that I really needed to adhere to. “I want nothing to do with that man.” I shrugged but Damien only smiled. “Come on, I'll show you around the house. You can make something if you are hungry—” Damien began, leading me away from the door. “Sure thanks.” “I'll give you my number when I'm leaving. Kill also asked to get you a new phone. All the details in your old phone are being transferred. You don't have to worry. Brooke will give that to you.” And who the hell was Brooke?Aspen I woke up to pain before I woke up to fear.It lived behind my eyes at first, a heavy pressure that made me groan softly as consciousness crept back in. My mouth felt dry and bitter, like I had swallowed something poisonous. When I tried to move, sharp pain sliced through my wrists and I gasped, the sound breaking out of me before I could stop it.My hands were bound behind my back.Not loosely. Tight. Too tight. The rope or cable bit into my skin, cutting circulation, making my fingers tingle and burn at the same time. My ankles were restrained too, forcing my legs into an uncomfortable angle that made my hips ache. I was seated on something hard and unforgiving. A chair. Cold enough that I could feel it through my clothes.My heart began to pound violently.“No,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and unfamiliar. “No no no.”The smell came next. Damp concrete. Metal. Old oil. Something sour in the air that made my stomach turn. I swallowed hard and gagged when nausea rolled through
Aspenhad told myself it would be a simple trip. Just a short ride from my mother’s house to the matrimonial home, a routine journey I had made countless times before, and yet today, my stomach refused to settle. Every flutter of nerves reminded me that life had a way of turning the mundane into the catastrophic. Clear had fussed over me as I locked the door, her hand lingering over mine for a moment longer than usual, and I had smiled weakly, brushing off the unease that had been gnawing at my chest all morning.The Uber arrived early, pulling up with the soft hum of the engine. I slipped into the backseat, the leather cold against my skin. The driver, a man I did not recognize, gave a polite nod but did not speak much. I had been on autopilot, scrolling through my phone to distract myself, trying to calm the flutter in my stomach.Killian called just as I buckled my seatbelt. The phone rang in my hand, and I swiped to answer, relief flooding me at the sound of his voice.“Aspen?” Hi
Aspen The house felt alive in a way I had never imagined it could. Light poured through the tall windows, spilling across the polished floors and bouncing off the cream-colored walls. After everything—the hospital, the fainting spell, the tension with Mother—the weight that had been pressing on my chest for weeks felt a little lighter. I took a deep breath, letting it expand slowly, and for the first time in a long while, I let myself feel the space, the quiet warmth of a home finally ours.Mother was already in the kitchen, moving slowly but with an energy I hadn’t expected. Even after all the arguments, all the years of feeling second to Clear, she had a presence that filled the room in a comforting way. Her eyes met mine briefly, and she smiled—a small, genuine smile. That alone made my chest unclench, and I felt a wave of relief.“Good morning,” I said softly, letting my voice carry into the room.“Good morning, Aspen,” she replied, her tone lighter than it had been in years. She
Aspen The morning was quiet, almost unnervingly so. I woke to the soft hum of the mansion, sunlight filtering through the curtains in golden streams across the floor. The faint flutter in my stomach reminded me that the fainting spell from the other night was more than just exhaustion. I pressed my hand against it briefly and forced myself to sit up, ignoring the wave of nausea that threatened to overtake me. I had to be strong today. For myself, for Clear, and for the fragile thread connecting my relationship with my mother.Clear had already been up, I could tell from the faint clatter of dishes in the kitchen. She had prepared breakfast, and from the smell drifting into the bedroom, she had done more than just make toast. I took a deep breath, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and forced myself to stand. My knees wobbled slightly, but I ignored it, focusing on the plan for today.We were returning to the hospital. Mother was being discharged. I had rehearsed what I would say
Aspen The ride home from the hospital had been quiet. Clear drove, her hands steady on the wheel, her eyes occasionally flicking toward me with concern I tried not to acknowledge. My body felt heavier than it should have, my stomach fluttering in a way that made me press a hand against it and wonder if I could survive the next few hours without losing control.The confrontation with my mother had left me raw, exposed, and shaking. Every insult, every dismissive glance, every comment about Clear being the better daughter replayed in my head. I had yelled. I had forced the words out of me that I had carried for years, but the emotional toll was enormous. My muscles ached, my chest felt tight, and the fluttering in my stomach refused to settle.Clear’s hand brushed against mine once, soft and grounding. “Aspen, breathe,” she said gently. “We are almost home. Just a few minutes.”I nodded, forcing my lips into a smile I knew was weak. “I know. I’m okay,” I whispered, though even I did no
The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor made my head ache almost immediately. I tried to ignore it, gripping the small bag Clear had handed me. The smell of antiseptic and faint, underlying illness clung to the air like a permanent reminder that this was not a place for comfort. My stomach fluttered uneasily, but it wasn’t just the physical discomfort gnawing at me. It was everything else—the tension I had carried for years, the frustration, the pain of feeling invisible to someone who was supposed to be my mother.Clear walked beside me, quiet and steady as always. Her hand brushed mine once, a soft, grounding touch, but I barely acknowledged it. My mind was elsewhere. Focused. Determined.My mother’s hospital room came into view. I could see her reclining slightly in the bed, looking perfectly calm, perfectly indifferent. Her eyes flicked toward us as we entered, and I felt that familiar knot tighten in my chest. The one I had carried for years. The one that had never truly







